The Mad King eBook

“Count Zellerndorf,” said the American,
“you were doubtless aware of the embarrassment
under which the king of Lutha was compelled at Blentz
to witness the entry of a foreign army within his domain.
But we are not now at Blentz. We have summoned
you that you may receive from us, and transmit to
your emperor, the expression of our surprise and dismay
at the unwarranted violation of Luthanian neutrality.”

“But, your majesty—­” interrupted
the Austrian.

“But nothing, your excellency,” snapped
the American. “The moment for diplomacy
is passed; the time for action has come. You will
oblige us by transmitting to your government at once
a request that every Austrian soldier now in Lutha
be withdrawn by noon tomorrow.”

Zellerndorf looked his astonishment.

“Are you mad, sire?” he cried. “It
will mean war!”

“It is what Austria has been looking for,”
snapped the American, “and what people look
for they usually get, especially if they chance to
be looking for trouble. When can you expect a
reply from Vienna?”

“We have thought of everything,” interrupted
Barney. “A throne means less to us than
you may imagine, count; but the honor of Lutha means
a great deal.”

XI

THE BATTLE

At five o’clock that afternoon the sidewalks
bordering Margaretha Street were crowded with promenaders.
The little tables before the cafes were filled.
Nearly everyone spoke of the great war and of the
peril which menaced Lutha. Upon many a lip was
open disgust at the supine attitude of Leopold of
Lutha in the face of an Austrian invasion of his country.
Discontent was open. It was ripening to something
worse for Leopold than an Austrian invasion.

Presently a sergeant of the Royal Horse Guards cantered
down the street from the palace. He stopped here
and there, and, dismounting, tacked placards in conspicuous
places. At the notice, and in each instance cheers
and shouting followed the sergeant as he rode on to
the next stop.

Now, at each point men and women were gathered, eagerly
awaiting an explanation of the jubilation farther
up the street. Those whom the sergeant passed
called to him for an explanation, and not receiving
it, followed in a quickly growing mob that filled Margaretha
Street from wall to wall. When he dismounted
he had almost to fight his way to the post or door
upon which he was to tack the next placard. The
crowd surged about him in its anxiety to read what
the placard bore, and then, between the cheering and
yelling, those in the front passed back to the crowd
the tidings that filled them with so great rejoicing.

“Leopold has declared war on Austria!”
“The king calls for volunteers!” “Long
live the king!”